The Sunset
The sun bows low, a golden fire,
Fading slow, yet never tired.
It paints the sky in crimson dreams,
Where day dissolves in amber streams.
The clouds drift by, their colors spun,
In quiet grace, the day is done.
Each moment burns, then melts away,
A promise kept, yet can’t still stay.
Beneath the glow, the world grows still,
Hearts find calm, and souls refill.
For in each dusk, a truth we find—
Ends can be gentle, not unkind.
So let the sunset softly show,
That beauty shines before we go.
For every close, a light is cast,
To bless the future, heal the past...
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